


Inconceivable

by semicolonsandsimiles



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: CDTH spoilers, Call Down the Hawk Spoilers, Canon Compliant, F/M, Future Fic, Gen, M/M, Magic, Post-Call Down the Hawk, Post-Canon, afaik
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:21:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22500901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semicolonsandsimiles/pseuds/semicolonsandsimiles
Summary: They haven't had to deal with a foreign presence on their leyline in decades. But time is a circle, and nothing is a coincidence.
Relationships: Jordan/Declan Lynch, Richard Gansey III/Blue Sargent, Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 11
Kudos: 26





	1. There's a big difference between mostly dead and all dead

Ronan was at the train station early, because his disdain for speed limits remained strong as ever. Probably he should dream some sort of cloaking device to hide the BMW from traffic enforcement drones. By now the BMW was almost as much Ronan’s dream thing as Niall’s; by the time its transmission wore out, it had become nigh impossible to find a replacement, so Adam had helped him dream one. Then, Adam had been working on the engine one day - _you know, we could dream an electric engine to replace this old gas-guzzler._ And more parts had been replaced to be compatible with the new engine. So now Ronan owned a car that was vintage on the surface, but modern under the hood. He leaned against it, focusing on the spot where the train tracks met the horizon until the straight lines were broken by the snub-nosed silhouette of the train.

Finally, the train decelerated into the southbound side of the station. Henrietta’s train station hosted only two routes, commuter trains that shuttled people back and forth between Henrietta and the much bigger stations in D.C. and Richmond. This meant there was no crowd to speak of, even at 4 pm on a Friday, and Ronan spotted Adam making his way over only a moment after the doors opened. He frowned reflexively as he took in his appearance: dark circles under his eyes, shoulders slumping, feet dragging. Then Adam was in front of him, dropping his bag so he could wrap his arms around Ronan and kiss him. Ronan let all thoughts except _Adam_ slide from his mind for a long minute.

“Hey, Parrish,” he said finally, not releasing Adam from his arms. “You look like shit.”

“I missed your face too,” Adam retorted, emphasized by running his hand from the back of Ronan’s neck, over his head, down his face.

Ronan licked his palm in retaliation. “You know what I mean. They overworking you again?”

“Just the usual.” Adam disentangled himself to throw his bag into the back seat. “Well, it’s been mostly public comment meetings this week, so actually a bit worse than usual.” It had been almost 10 years since his employer created Adam’s current role; in corporate-speak he was a climate resilience consultant, which in normal person terms meant helping towns and small cities plan for reducing the impacts of climate change on their communities. And in psychic terms, it meant Adam’s gift for seeing the future of whole systems instead of individual humans was constantly in use. Not that his employer or clients knew anything about that; they had learned, however, that any disagreement with Adam inevitably ended with the other party’s _huh, guess you were right._ Ronan didn’t think those now-routine arguments wholly accounted for Adam’s exhausted appearance, though.

“Nuh-uh, you’re more fucking exhausted than usual.” 

“I look that bad, huh?” Ronan saw no need to voice his answer, since Adam well knew Ronan could always detect the weariness he hid from everyone else. “It’s nothing bad, I’ve just been awake since, shit, 2 am-ish?”

“Tell me about it,” Ronan countered. “I’m skeptical that something big enough for Adam Parrish to lose sleep over qualifies as ‘nothing bad’.”

“Start driving first,” Adam said, opening his door. “I’m past ready to be home.”

“Okay,” Ronan said, once he had pulled onto the highway. “Explain the abso-fucking-lutely great, definitely not bad insomnia.”

Adam gave him a huffed chuckle, reclined his seat, and closed his eyes. “Seriously. It’s not a big deal.” 

“Very big deal, got it.” Ronan said it lightly, reaching over to interlace Adam’s fingers with his, because that Adam brought it up meant it was probably at least a little bit of a deal. 

“It was old nightmares coming back to haunt me, that’s all. Not even that nightmarish, really. Probably just the accumulated stress getting to me.” 

Ronan frowned. “The Lace?” It had been 20 years, and nightmares about that adventure were infrequent now, but they’d never completely gone away for either of them. 

“No.”

“So...kinda a big deal. Psychic nightmare?” 

“No.” Adam paused, lips pursed in thought. “Actually, maybe? Really, nightmare isn’t quite the right word, because…well, I was back in the trailer park.” 

Ronan didn’t think he had reacted, but the look Adam gave him indicated he had not been as stoic as he thought. “I didn’t say anything,” Ronan protested. “Go on.”

“It wasn’t _that_ kind of dream. I was just in my room, dreading whatever was about to happen. But there was some sort of presence with me in the dream, a benign one. I think it was trying to comfort me, but it was really weak. All the same, it was...I could tell that was the _focus_ of the dream, I just couldn’t connect with it enough to get a read on what it was. That’s what kept me awake, not the dream.” 

Ronan considered. The mere existence of a weak, maybe-something-psychic presence wasn’t enough to keep Adam awake. “Not knowing what it was kept you awake? Trying to figure it out kept you awake.” 

Adam gave him a tired smile and squeezed his hand. “See, not a big deal. If it’s a psychic thing, being closer to the ley line will make it stronger, so I should be able to figure it out. Communicate with it, maybe. And if it’s a stress thing, I’ll be less stressed working from home.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You don’t think so?”

“Fuck, Adam, you haven’t had those dreams since…” Ronan trailed off; Adam knew as well as he did that it had been close to 20 years. 

“Yeah. But...I don’t think it’s anything to worry about.”

“You don’t think it’s anything to worry about, or you don’t think it’s anything for _me_ to worry about?”

“It’s not anything I want you to worry about,” Adam replied. This wasn’t a real answer; Ronan knew Adam would hold a monopoly on the family’s worry if he could. “Anyway, I’m home ‘til after Thanksgiving; you’ll know if I start worrying.”

“And if I suspect you’re keeping it from me, I’ll come sit on your desk and glare until you tell me.”

“And you say you have nothing in common with the cats.”

Ronan turned into the Barns’ driveway. “I absolutely am _not_ -” he began indignantly, before being cut off by a flurry of black feathers beating against the passenger window. 

“ _Atom!”_ Chainsaw shrieked. Adam rolled down the window so she could perch on the sill and demand that he stroke her head feathers as they rolled slowly to the house. 

“Jesus, bird, you’re in your 20s now. You’re supposed to be an adult with some level of patience,” Ronan told her.

“Where’s the rest of the welcoming committee?” Adam asked, as they parked without further interruptions. 

“Goats are in their pen -” he was interrupted by an indignant _maaaa_ from that direction.

“Brush Hog sounds like she’s holding a grudge about it.”

Ronan got out of the car. “No more than usual. And I’m sure the rest of the house critters are in the kitchen, because I left Rory and Sean with a ball of pizza dough and instructions to get creative with the toppings.”

“Oh no.”

Chainsaw’s excitement was slowing Adam’s exit from the car, so Ronan opened the back door and lunged across the seat to grab Adam’s bag before he could. “It’ll be edible, probably. Oh, Shotgun’s here.” As he spoke, an enormous St. Bernard walked up and shoved her head reproachfully under his arm. “Kitchen too much of a circus for you?” 

Adam walked around the car to join them; Shotgun insinuated herself under his nearest arm. “I’m not sure I want pizza made by a circus, Lynch,” he said. “Let’s go in.”

Ronan followed Adam and Shotgun inside and let the door bang shut behind him. He was rewarded by the sound of feet running towards them. “Daaaaddd!” Adam squatted down so he could meet Sean’s embrace and pick him up. Two teacup pigs trotted close behind, nosing at Adam’s shoes. Rory and the three cats strolled in more slowly, trying to maintain the fiction that they weren’t _that_ excited; Rory because she was a teenager and the cats because they were cats. Rory paused to look at Adam and Sean for a moment, then walked past them to Ronan and hugged him tightly. Ronan was caught off guard, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain. 

“Miss me already?” He asked, returning the hug. 

“You’re the only dad available. You looked like you needed a hug. Whatever, shut up.” 

“Love you too, inchworm.” Ronan let her go, and Rory turned to hug Adam from the side, since Sean didn’t look like he intended to be put down any time soon. 

“Hi, sweetie.” Adam turned his head to kiss the top of hers. “What kind of experimental pizza did y’all come up with for us?”

“Oh my god, dad.” Rory side-eyed Ronan. “What did you tell him about my pizza?”

“I meant experimental in a positive way,” Adam protested. “I’m sure it’s great.”

“It’s not that weird, anyway,” Rory told him. “The only weird thing is the beets.”

“Beets are pretty weird for pizza,” Ronan said.

“Sean wanted to dig something out of the garden to put on the pizza,” Rory explained, “And beets are the only thing left out there.”

“I tasted them!” Sean interjected. “They’re good!”

“I’m sure they’re good,” Adam said. “Here, Sean, let me put you down. I want to shower before dinner.”

Sean let himself be put down, but took hold of Adam’s hand instead. “You gotta come say hi to Mr. Squiggles first, ‘cause he wants to see you!”

“That must be why he’s not here, then,” Ronan remarked. “Do you even know where Mr. Squiggles is?” On first glance, Mr. Squiggles was a ferret. On closer inspection, he was a small boy’s ideal of a ferret; cartoonishly large eyes, angora-soft fur, a face that spoke whole sentences with a single expression, and a penchant for exploring small spaces that seemed to exceed even that of a mundane ferret. As a rule, he could be found in the middle of everything or not at all.

“Taking a nap in the dryer. He hasn’t left ‘cause it’s warm there,” Sean reasoned.

“Let’s go see him, then,” Adam said, letting himself be led towards the laundry room.

* * *

It was Thursday, and since Adam had gotten home, Ronan had been woken by his nightmare more nights than not. Adam still insisted it was nothing to worry about, but Ronan knew how easy it was to say this when you woke your partner in the middle of the night and just wanted them to go back to sleep, even when you couldn’t. He hadn’t made good on his threat to sit on Adam’s desk. But he was out of bed before Adam today, and that in itself was enough cause for worry. So he was making Adam coffee and breakfast. Well, he was getting to the breakfast part. Ronan opened the fridge for a third time, inspected the shelves as though something new might have arrived since the last time he opened it, then finally pulled out the egg carton.

“Morning.” Adam shuffled into the kitchen and leaned his head on Ronan’s back. Ronan finished cracking eggs into the pan and turned around, pulling Adam close.

“I’d ask how you slept, but I think I already know.”

“Mmm. Actually -” Adam lifted his head as if he would keep talking, then rested it back on Ronan’s shoulder. “Coffee first.”

“Sit down,” Ronan nudged him towards a bar stool, “I’ll get you some.”

“So,” Adam continued, coffee in hand, “I think I figured it out. The presence in the dream. I kept thinking, I must know what this is, because it felt so familiar. And I think...I think it’s Cabeswater.”

“It’s not. Adam, it’s not. Fuck. It can’t be. Can it? Fuck. _Fuck._ ” Ronan’s emotions were a tumult. Lindenmere was a lot like Cabeswater, but it wasn’t, couldn’t be, a replacement for his first forest. Ronan might think about it more rarely now, but he still missed Cabeswater. He felt responsible for its destruction, even though the young Ronan who dreamt his first forest couldn’t have known that it would need to protect itself from a demon. 

“I know.” Adam not only knew, he shared many of Ronan’s feelings about Cabeswater. He wouldn’t have brought it up if he wasn’t sure. “But I remember what my connection to Cabeswater felt like, better than I remember anything. It only took me so long to figure out because it didn’t even occur to me that it might be that. But it is.”

“But _how?”_

“Eggs,” Adam said, and when Ronan turned to check the yolks were starting to solidify, but at least they were still edible. He divided the eggs and toast onto two plates and slid one over to Adam.

“I don’t know how. I think we need to visit Lindenmere.” Adam sighed. “Not today, probably. I have a shitload of work that has to be finished today. I think tomorrow afternoon would work. You coming?”

“The fuck kind of question is that?” Ronan took Adam’s near-empty mug. “Clearly you need more coffee.” As if Ronan would miss visiting Cabeswater. Now that it seemed to be a possibility, he was burning with impatience. “No chance you’ll finish work soon enough to go today?”

Adam did a mental calculation, then shook his head. “Gets dark too early.” He reached across the counter to squeeze Ronan’s hand. “It won’t disappear overnight.”

They were interrupted by the sound of the back door banging open. “Who’s -” Adam begin, but his question was answered by the clatter of hooves.

“Kerah!” Opal called, using her hands against the counter to halt her pell-mell dash into the kitchen. “I found your new forest!” She paused, nose scrunched, then shook her head tentatively. “No, that isn’t right. I found your old forest? The one the bad thing ripped apart. I found it again.”

Ronan blinked, shook his head as if that might change the words entering his ears, and looked over at Adam to find Adam already giving him a meaning look. “Cabeswater, runt,” Ronan said, still half disbelieving. “You found Cabeswater? How do you know?”

Opal flapped the ends of her sweater over her hands, agitated. Ronan supposed the answer was glaringly obvious to her. Before she could find words, Adam broke in. “It feels like Cabeswater, doesn’t it, Opal? Cabeswater and Lindenmere feel different. Similar, because they’re similar entities, but different.” He shrugged Ronan-ward. “I think you’ll be able to tell, once we’re there.”

Opal came to lean her elbows against Adam’s thigh and look up at him. “You’re coming now?”

“Not now, I’m afraid. We’ll come tomorrow.”

Opal pouted at him. “Tomorrow’s a long time.”

“It’s not a long time, you’re impatient as fuck,” Ronan countered. “Where did you find Cabeswater?”

Opal scowled; now that the prospect of adventure was not immediate, she was not inclined towards helpfulness. “With the other forest,” she said. “I’ll show you when you decide to actually _go_.” 

“C’mon, Opal,” Adam coaxed, resting an arm around her shoulders. “Cabeswater’s been trying to talk to me in my dreams. If I knew where it was, I might be able to hear it better.”

“If you come to where it is, you can hear it _way better_ ,” Opal insisted. 

Adam gave Ronan a familiar look, exasperated and fond; it said _this girl very obviously came from your head_. Ronan shrugged back; true though that was, he was no better at getting her to cooperate than Adam. Worse, probably, which made sense, since Adam was also better at getting Ronan to cooperate than Ronan was.

Their wordless conversation was interrupted by Rory, scrunching wet hair to her head as she came into the kitchen. “Morning,” she mumbled, eyes moving from Adam to Ronan to the egg carton. “Scrambled, please. Oh, Opal!” Rory knelt down to receive the hug Opal had clattered over to give her. “Did you come for eggs?”

“No. Eggs are weird. I might eat the shells though,” Opal decided, glaring at Ronan as if it might force him to hand over the shells.

“Sure, you can have the shells,” Ronan agreed. “Just tell us where Cabeswater is.”

Opal huffed. “Cabeswater?” Rory asked. “Isn’t that Uncle Gansey’s internal forest?” Confusion and worry passed over her face as she considered the implications. “Is Uncle Gansey lost-”

“Hold up, sweetie,” Adam interrupted. “You know Cabeswater used to be where Lindenmere is? That’s what Opal’s found. Cabeswater’s back on the ley line somehow.”

Rory opened her mouth, closed it. Opened again. Closed again. “We’re just as confused as you,” Ronan told her. “And Opal’s not exactly being forthcoming.”

“Eggshells,” Opal demanded, holding a hand towards him. 

Ronan sighed and handed her one. “You’re a terror. I’m not giving you any more until you tell.” Opal shoved the eggshell crunchily into her mouth and glared as she chewed. 

“Rory,” Adam asked, “Have you noticed anything different in the leyline energy? Cabeswater doesn’t seem to be very strong, so I don’t know if you’d be able to sense it if it wasn’t trying to communicate with you in the first place.”

“No. I could try…” Rory shook her head. “I’ve only ever tapped into Lindenmere’s energy. I think I’d notice if anything about it were different.”

“I think you would too,” Adam agreed.

“Fine,” Opal huffed, having finished her eggshell. “The old forest is in the burnt place. Eggshells now.”

“ _Kreker_?” Chainsaw asked, gliding in to land on the faucet. Her and Opal’s relationship had never progressed beyond wary acceptance, and they both seemed to have an innate sense of when the other was getting some sort of treat that they weren’t.

“My trash,” Opal informed her, grabbing the bowl of eggshells from the counter. Chainsaw lunged and managed to procure an eggshell for herself. She made a victory croak, muffled by the shell, and set to bashing it against the sink.

And just like that, everyone somehow settled into the flow of a normal school morning; pets wandered into the kitchen to demand their breakfasts, Adam went upstairs to coax Sean out of bed, Ronan cleaned the kitchen. Rory and Sean left for school, Adam shut himself in the office, and Ronan went out to do the barn chores, a process that took twice as long as usual because it required intense effort to focus on anything other than _Cabeswater Cabeswater Cabeswater._


	2. Still slightly alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cabeswater is back. So is someone else.

Adam didn’t expect to hear Ronan’s talking-on-the-phone voice drifting faintly downstairs as he started making coffee. That he even answered a phone call, let alone this early, meant it was reasonably important. So when Ronan walked into the kitchen a minute later, twirling his phone between thumb and forefinger in the manner that suggested he would be happy if it slipped and cracked on the floor, and said “I’m gonna head to the shelter in 30, they’re shorthanded because a fuckton of employees are out sick,” Adam was half expecting it.

The county animal shelter was only a minute down the highway from the Barns’ driveway. Before the animal shelter, it had been the Lynches’ property, not part of the Barns, but legally a separate parcel. Declan supposed Niall Lynch had bought it to prevent any neighbors living too close for comfort. Regardless, Ronan had more or less ignored it until a county commissioner called to see if maybe they’d consider selling to build a new animal shelter? 

_Since when do shelter animals have money,_ Ronan had snarked when they talked it over, and also, _what do we want with highway-adjacent property, sounds awful._ So they had donated it, which resulted in the people in charge of such things insisting that Ronan sit on the shelter board. Every post-board-meeting evening, Adam listened to a litany of complaints about the other board members (“they’re just there to make themselves look good, but _I’m_ the asshole”), but he knew Ronan not-so-secretly enjoyed being an asshole for a good cause.

One of the things that irked his fellow board members, but endeared him to the shelter employees, was that Ronan worked shifts at the shelter when they were in a bind. Most often in spring and summer, when the shelter was busiest. Still, it had been over a month since the last call for help, so it was probably due. Adam swallowed his disappointment that it had happened to be today. He turned from the coffeepot to kiss Ronan. “Cabeswater tomorrow, then?”

“Ah, fuck.” Ronan rested his arms over Adam’s shoulders. “Um, Kelly’s coming in at 3. Think that gives us enough time? You can pick me up on your way out.”

Adam calculated. “If we plan to get back to the car before dark, that should leave us at least an hour in Cabeswater. Assuming it’s reasonably close to Lindenmere.”

“Forests don’t move, to my knowledge,” answered Ronan, a man who had moved more than one forest from dream to reality. 

“We’ll go for it, then. I’ll tell Rory we’ll be home by dark.”

* * *

Adam pulled into the animal shelter parking lot at 3:02. “You’re late,” Ronan said, throwing himself into the car almost as soon as it had stopped.

“You’re fucking impatient,” Adam objected, leaning over to kiss him. “And I guess you’re expecting me to speed to make up for those two minutes.”

“Duh.”

They drove in silence. Ronan stared out the window, gnawing his wristbands until he realized what he was doing, then stopping. Then repeating. When they slowed and turned down a Forest Service road, Adam reached across the car to pull Ronan’s right hand toward him. “Breathe. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Something else is imitating Cabeswater to lure us here and murder us,” Ronan answered immediately. His lips quirked up like he meant it as a joke, but his eyes said otherwise.

“That’d be shit,” Adam agreed. “If only we’d thought to bring someone who knew how to manage the leyline. Like a magician. Or a dreamer.”

“Shithead,” Ronan said. “It obviously knows us, what if it planned for that? You can’t just do whatever to defeat it. The only rule of self-sacrifice is _fucking don’t._ ”

“Ronan. Look at me.” Ronan did; Adam took his eyes from the road long enough to meet Ronan’s. He looked sincerely, deeply worried. Which, okay, Ronan wasn’t the one with Cabeswater inside his head. “It’s Cabeswater,” Adam reassured him, “I’m certain. But also, Lindenmere hasn’t gone anywhere. All its defenses are still here.”

Ronan let out a long breath. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s do this.”

They arrived at the end of the road and parked. Opal immediately darted out from the trees nearby. “You took _forever_ ,” she complained, clinging to Ronan’s leg.

“We’re here now, runt. You gonna lead us, or do we have to guess?”

Opal scampered up the trail. ‘Trail’ was a generous term; a forest fire had blazed through 8 years earlier, not to mention that whoever constructed the trail had decided that straight up the hill was an appropriate slope for a hike, so it was abandoned in all but name. Abandoned, at least, by everyone who didn’t know it led to a magical dream forest. The trail’s only saving grace was its length; they came out on the ridge in less than 20 minutes. 

Here, they were well into Lindenmere. It was a short distance to the burned area, but the walk was made twice as long by the lack of trail through undergrowth surrounding the tall old oaks and maples and hickory trees. Opal led them on a meandering route that was just barely passable by humans. She stopped at the last unscathed tree before they reached the charred trunks.

“You can find it now?” She suggested, eyes darting from Ronan to Adam and back.

“Why don’t you want to show us?” Ronan asked.

“I could find it,” Adam interjected. Lindenmere’s presence almost overpowered it, but he could feel Cabeswater’s psychic breezes. As they drew closer, he became more sure of which direction they came from.

“Okay!” Opal dashed in the direction from which they’d come.

 _“Opal_ ,” Ronan growled, _“Why don’t you want to come?”_ Adam knew he was thinking of their conversation in the car.

Opal stopped where she was and muttered something in dream-forest language. “Still don’t speak tree,” Ronan snapped.

Opal huffed. “The old forest is weak. Yesterday I told it the new one is better, and it lashed at me.”

Ronan’s tension dissolved into annoyance. “So Cabeswater’s just pissed at you? You better come back and apologize.”

“Later!” Opal yelled, running off again.

“It’s this way.” Adam held out his hand; Ronan took it and followed, stepping over downed trees and around newly growing ones.

They were gradually climbing, still, and now the new growth trees around them were a mix of deciduous and evergreen. Adam knew they must be near Cabeswater, maybe even already in it, because its presence was strong now; still weaker than Lindenmere’s, but clear and distinct. “Do you feel it yet?” He asked Ronan.

Ronan considered. “Sometimes I think I do, but then a second later it’s all Lindenmere. Do you think they could be occupying the same space? Or like...all mixed together somehow?”

“This is uncharted territory,” Adam said. “Why not.” He rested a hand on the oak next to him, its crown already a few feet above his head, and the energy became distinct. “You may be on to something,” he added slowly, “this one’s definitely Lindenmere.” He moved on, touching trees as he came to them; Lindenmere, Lindenmere, Lindenmere. Then, after almost a dozen trees, he touched a pine tree about his own height, and there it was: _Magician,_ Cabeswater murmured in his ears.

“What was that?” Ronan asked, seeing something in Adam’s face that prompted him to move to him.

“I forgot,” Adam whispered, “that Cabeswater speaks in surround sound.”

Ronan cupped Adam’s face between his hands and searched his eyes. “You’re okay,” he said, more statement than question.

“I’m good,” Adam confirmed. “Just startled.” For as many years as it had been since he felt it last, Cabeswater’s presence remained familiar and soothing. He moved one of Ronan’s hands to the tree. “Can you feel it?”

Ronan closed his eyes in concentration. After a long minute, he replied. “Yeah. That’s - yeah. Be nice if it would talk out loud, though.” He opened his eyes to glower at the tree, in case that reminded it how to speak.

“This way,” Adam said, moving towards the pull of Cabeswater. “Maybe we need to be in the thick of it to hear it. It’s mostly Lindenmere here.” They walked on, Adam touching the trees around them at regular intervals for confirmation. There was more Cabeswater as they went further, but the trees were still a mix of the two forests. Adam began to wonder if which trees he was identifying as Cabeswater’s was pattern or coincidence. Then they came to an area clear of the taller deciduous trees; only a jagged circle of pines had sprung up. Adam walked the circle: all Cabeswater’s. Not coincidence, then.

“Do you see it?” He asked.

“I see a bunch of pine trees,” Ronan replied.

“Pitch pines, specifically.”

“And-? Oh. You think Cabeswater left some cones behind?” Cones of pitch pines often had a resinous coating that kept the seeds trapped inside; the forest fire would have burned the coating away, releasing the seeds.

“Every Cabeswater tree I’ve found so far is a pitch pine. I think that has to be it.”

“Huh. _Reperit naturam in via_ , I guess.” Ronan said. Then: “Cabeswater? _Potesne me audire?”_

The wind gusted through the pines. Some of the sounds it made might have been dream-language words. It might only have been the pine needles shaking against each other. For a while after the gust subsided they stood near the center of the circle of trees, listening. Then there were words.

“It can hear you,” a susurrating voice said. “But that’s as loud as it can get.”

“And what are you?” Ronan demanded.

“Rude,” the voice shot back, sharper but still quiet. “I’m a who. Was a who. My spirit still counts as a who, I think.”

“Not exactly reassuring,” Adam remarked. He peered around the clearing, hoping the voice’s owner might be visible.

“You could see me if Blue were here,” the voice said, mournful. “Let me see what I can do-”

They waited, and looked. “In the middle,” the voice directed, finally.

A suggestion of a boy wavered near the center of the circle. He was almost fully transparent, visible mainly because the colors he wore did not match the grass and trees and sky. The colors were Aglionby navy and khaki. Above the school sweater, a ghostly-pale face with a dark smudgy spot on one cheek peered at them. 

“You’re a spirit,” Adam murmured. He was disbelieving, even while he knew there was no room for doubt. He had seen the spirits on St. Mark’s Eve, but even without that, he could not have thought there was anything corporeal left about this….person.

“What is a damn spirit doing in my forest?” Ronan demanded. He did not question that it was a spirit, but he was uneasy with this development. 

“I am not _damned_ ,” the spirit protested. His shape wobbled and blinked as he spoke; apparently the ley line was not supplying enough energy to maintain both form and function at once. “Cabeswater brought me back for you. It’s easier to speak when you, like, have a mouth. Anyway, you used to know me. I’m Noah.”

Adam frowned. They knew _of_ a Noah, but that ‘know’ implied something more than a passing meeting. “So why don’t we know you now?” he asked, looking at Ronan for confirmation that he was equally nonplussed. Ronan shrugged. “Is this a ley line timefuckery thing where we knew you in the future?”

“No…” Noah bobbed around for a bit, looking at them. “At least, I’m pretty sure when you knew me is in your past. You looked younger. But I’ve been….out of time for a while. Time’s very confusing currently.”

“The only Noah I’ve...encountered, well, he had been dead for a few years.” Adam said. Noah’s face blurred in a way that implied nodding. It clicked. “That’s you, right? But we don’t remember you.”

“Yeah,” Ronan agreed, but he was looking more distressed by the second.

“I was out of time,” Noah said again. “I didn’t exist for you. Now I’m back in time, so I do exist. I thought that meant you would remember me, but I don’t really know…”

“ _When_ did we know you?” Ronan interjected. “Not like, the year. But places or events. Something that might jog our memories.”

“I was at Monmouth.” Noah considered. “Searching for Glendower. Do you remember Gansey’s story about the first time he died?”

Ronan clearly wanted to bolt. Or smash things. Or, maybe, just dream this slice of Cabeswater back out of existence. Adam couldn’t blame him. Noah seemed to know everything about them during high school. But he still didn’t remember Noah. “Gansey’s a drama queen,” Ronan snarled. “There wasn’t a _first time he died,_ he had a near death experience that somehow got him fixated on a supposedly-still-alive ancient king.”

Noah seemed to shrink under Ronan’s anger. “That’s not it,” he whispered. “Not the whole story.”

“What the f-” Ronan began. Then his face did something complicated, a mixture of shock and grief and rage. “Oh, _fuck,_ ” he said, and his face crumpled into pure grief. Adam wrapped his arms tightly around Ronan, used his hand on the back of Ronan’s head to gently pull it to his shoulder. “ _Explain,_ ” he hissed at Noah.

“I….” Noah became the faintest shimmer in the air. “I was there. Do you remember the empty bedroom in Monmouth? It was mine. Ummm….do you remember what happened to Blue’s eye….” With this, he completely disappeared.

“You can’t just leave like that!” Adam snapped. The implication that Noah had somehow been responsible for Blue’s eye left him even more unnerved. That had been the demon. Just the demon. The demon didn’t have hands. Whose hands did the demon use?

“Remember…” Ronan said, muffled against Adam’s neck.

Adam kissed his temple. “Hmm?”

“Remember the mustang we found on the ley line?” Ronan lifted his head and pulled back just enough to look Adam in the eye. “It was Noah’s.”

“We didn’t -”

Then, Adam remembered. Memories came rushing back; he staggered against the flood. Ronan tightened his arms around Adam, held him steady. “We buried his bones back on the line so he could stay with us,” Adam whispered. “That must be how Cabeswater can bring him back now.”

“Are you,” Ronan murmured next to Adam’s hearing ear, “Trying to make this your fault?”

“No. Just -”

Ronan knew the end of that statement. “Think later,” he recommended. “We’re gonna have to leave soon.”

The sun hovered barely above the horizon. Adam gently loosened Ronan’s arms from around his waist and took his hands. “Okay. Lemme just see if Cabeswater can let us say goodbye to Noah first.”

Adam closed his eyes and reached out. _Cabeswater, can we talk to Noah again now?_ Cabeswater showed him Noah sitting on the ground with his arms wrapped around his legs, head on his knees. Upset. _Tell him not to feel guilty,_ Adam said. _We wanted to know, even though it hurts._ He sensed leaves brushing against his mind, a feeling made even more uncanny with the knowledge that Cabeswater’s physical form had only needles. Then, Cabeswater showed him the familiar scene of driving up the Barns’ driveway.

“Yeah,” Adam agreed aloud, opening his eyes. “It’s time to go home.” Ronan squeezed his hands, a wordless question. “He’s not coming back right now, but we’ll see him next time.” Ronan nodded, and headed in the direction of the car. He kept hold of one of Adam’s hands, only dropping it long enough to get in the car, the whole way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reperit naturam in via: nature finds a way  
> Potesne me audire: can you hear me
> 
> If the Latin is wrong, blame Ronan's shitty grammar. Or Google translate.


	3. People in masks cannot be trusted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which questionable decisions run in the family, and they deal with the emotional fallout of the last chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, this one took a while! Who knew emotions were hard to write?
> 
> Thanks to [tinyarmedtrex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinyarmedtrex/pseuds/tinyarmedtrex) for beta-ing this chapter!

Most nights, Rory sat on the porch swing to watch the sun set, with homework or a book or just her own thoughts. Tonight’s colors were especially vivid, tendrils of fiery orange and saturated magenta reaching into the dark blue sky, but Rory was too focused on the driveway to properly appreciate them. By her estimate, “we’ll be home by sunset” left less than 10 minutes for her dads to get back. Maybe 5. The first rule of magical forest safety was “always tell someone which part you’re going to and when you’ll be back”. Rory was pretty sure the second, unspoken part of that rule said “the person you told should start worrying if you’re not back”.

She sat another two minutes. Three. Only the faintest streaks of yellow over the horizon showed where the sun hung below. The driveway was quiet. Rory went inside, where Sean was still attempting to teach Chainsaw how to color inside the lines. She had quickly learned to grip a crayon in her talons and mark the paper, but following the marks already on the paper was proving to be too abstract a construct for a raven. Or, Rory thought privately, Chainsaw understood but didn’t care to do.

“Sean,” Rory said, “I need you to help me scry.”

Sean took the crayon from Chainsaw, eliciting a protest squawk, and frowned at Rory. “Thought you’re not s’posed to do that without a dad.”

“Right,” Rory said, “But they were supposed to be home from Lindenmere by now and they’re not. So I need to check and see if they’re okay.” The psychics at Fox Way - and her dads, of course - had been sure to warn her of all that might go wrong if you tried scrying by yourself. But she wasn’t going to be by herself. And she would take every precaution; they’d made her practice those ad nauseum before she was allowed even a minute of scrying alongside Adam. And. She was a little bit scared that something bad had happened.

Rory took Sean’s silence as agreement and gathered her supplies: a strong flashlight, a fork, and an egg timer that could only be set for 6 minutes 21 seconds. She turned the flashlight on, propped it on a pillow to make it easier to stare into, and held the fork out to Sean. Sean didn’t reach to take it. “It’s just a safety fork,” Rory reassured him. “I’m gonna come out before the timer rings. You won’t actually have to poke me with it.”

Sean took the fork, but continued to gaze apprehensively at it. “Why do you gotta hurt people to get them back from scrying?”

“I guess you don’t _gotta_ ,” Rory considered, “but you have to get their attention fast, so that’s the most foolproof way.”

Sean brightened. “I could tickle you! That gets your attention fastest.”

Rory thought she might rather be stabbed with a fork, which meant Sean was probably right. “Okay, you can try tickling. But not before the timer goes off! And I’ll be back by then.”

Rory settled cross-legged in front of the flashlight and turned the timer on. Sean sat across from her. “I’m going now,” she told him. Just before she got sucked in to Lindenmere, she remembered Sean had never seen someone scry. She threw up a prayer that he wouldn’t be too freaked out to stay with her, and then she was on top of the ridge.

In the dreamspace, Rory saw farther ahead than she could have while physically walking through the forest. She spotted a circle of evergreen trees not far away, and made a beeline there on a hunch. Before she could enter the circle, a translucent human shape blocked her way, hovering right inside the circle. Its face was dominated by a dark blur on one cheek; Rory thought perhaps she only detected the eyes and nose and mouth because she knew they should be there. “They’re not here,” it said.

Rory glared suspiciously at the ghost. “What makes you think I’m looking for someone? Who are you?”

“I’m Noah,” it -- he -- replied. “You’re Rory. Ronan and Adam are on the way home, so you should go back.”

“I didn’t tell you my name,” Rory retorted, no less suspicious than before. “Ghosts aren’t entirely trustworthy.”

“People aren’t entirely trustworthy,” Noah sighed. “Really, you need to go.” He wavered closer and pushed ghostly hands towards her. Rory felt herself falling, falling, falling...then her upper back slammed into something solid but squishy. She blinked a few times before pushing herself up and looking behind her; the thing she’d fallen into was the front of the couch. 

Sean hurtled himself into her lap as soon as she’d sat up properly. “That was scary!” He informed her, pressing his face into her neck. “You were real still and your eyes just went gone.”

“Sorry, buddy,” Rory said, bringing her arms up to squeeze him closer. “I forgot to warn you. But I came back like I said, yeah?” She glanced at the timer; barely 2 minutes had passed.

“Yeah,” Sean whispered. “But I don’t think I’m big enough to help with scryin’.” Rory’s heart beat a staccato of guilty thumps. Boots thumped against the mudroom boot rack. Sean and Rory both scrambled up.

Only Adam walked into the living room. The stairs let out the creaks and squeaks that revealed someone walking up them. Sean rushed to hug Adam, who automatically wrapped an arm around his shoulders as he surveyed the living room. “Looks like I got here just in time?” he asked.

“Um-” Rory started.

“I helped,” Sean cut in, voice muffled because his face was pressed against his dad’s stomach. 

“Hmm,” Adam said. His face crumpled into a worried expression, and he was quiet for a long moment as he looked at Rory. She had scared Sean, and worried her dad, and she realized how unnecessary the scrying had been. It was so much worse than the stern lecture she had anticipated. “At least you’re safe,” he said softly, reaching his other arm out to her. Rory came and let him pull her into a tight hug.

“I was really only gone for a minute,” she told him. “There was a ghost there who pushed me back.”

“Noah,” Adam replied - a statement, not a question. “I’m glad he came back.” He squeezed her tighter still.

“You saw him? You _know_ him?” Rory pulled back so she could look him in the eye. Adam was always forthright with her; she was baffled by such a large omission. “Was ‘oh, by the way, I have a ghost friend who wanders around the ley line’ not an important thing to tell me?”

She felt Adam slowly let out a breath against her hair. “We forgot, until tonight,” he told her. “Ley line time nonsense. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow, okay? I need to start dinner and check on your dad.”

Rory had almost forgotten that Ronan had gone upstairs without even greeting her and Sean. She tried to imagine how disquieting it would be to meet a stranger and suddenly remember knowing them. “Is he okay? Are you?”

“We will be.” Adam let go of them. His feet moved towards the kitchen, but his eyes went to the stairs.

“There’s some soup in the freezer,” Rory said. “I can heat it up.” She was relieved to find a way to help, after she’d caused extra worry.

Adam changed course immediately, tousling her hair on his way to the stairs. “Thanks, honey. Let us know when it’s ready.”

* * *

The door to their bedroom hung wide open. Adam shut it gently behind him. “It’s me,” he said quietly. Ronan briefly raised a hand, but otherwise stayed still. He was facedown on the bed, forehead resting on his stacked arms. Adam sat down next to him and squeezed Ronan’s shoulders firmly. He was tense all over; he looked unnaturally still, but now Adam could feel his muscles trembling from the strain of staying motionless. Adam shifted to lay with him, pressing his nose to the side of Ronan’s neck and wrapping one arm and leg around Ronan so that he was laying half on top of him, a weighted blanket with a heartbeat.

Adam felt the tension steadily draining from Ronan’s body over the course of several minutes. Finally, without moving, Ronan began to speak. “Do ‘ou ‘mber--”

Adam scooted over enough to look at Ronan’s face. “You’re talking to the mattress,” he said fondly.

Ronan turned his head just enough to free his mouth. “Do you remember when Noah --” his voice cracked, and he pressed his face back into the bed.

Adam brought one hand to cup the fist Ronan had made next to his face. The other hand he used to massage Ronan’s head and nape, down, up, down, up, several times before Ronan opened his fist to lace his fingers with Adam’s. Ronan turned his face back towards Adam and whispered, “Do you remember when Noah saved my life?”

Adam thought. There’d been a flood of memories after they met Noah in Cabeswater, a flood that he hadn’t had time to consciously inspect; yet he somehow knew the flood had washed through all the previously Noah-less memories where Noah belonged. It was obvious what Ronan was talking about, but no memory of Noah had infiltrated there. “I wasn’t there,” he finally settled on, “but I still remember that it was Gansey.”

“What the fuck,” Ronan hissed in frustration - not at Adam, but at the situation in general. He pressed his shoulder up into Adam’s chest. Adam took the hint and rolled to his side; Ronan turned to face him. “It was Noah,” Ronan murmured, “Noah found me. He called Gansey somehow. With his creepy-ass ghost energy, I guess.”

Adam brought his hand to Ronan’s cheek. He usually knew what would bring Ronan comfort, but he didn’t have words for this. Finally, he settled on, “I wish I could remember with you.”

Ronan leaned his forehead against Adams and breathed shakily into the space between them. Once his breaths had steadied, he said, “it’s not - you’re not letting me down, not remembering. I just need you to be here.”

“I’m always here.” Adam closed the small space between their lips and kissed him gently.

“Yeah,” Ronan muttered, not moving his lips away. He briefly pressed his lips hard against Adam’s, not really a kiss, more a reassurance of his presence. “Do you think Gansey will remember?”

“Once he’s here, yeah. I think he’ll remember.” Adam thought for a moment. “Maybe his Cabeswater will bring back the memories before then. We should call them tomorrow.”

“Mmnh. tomorrow.” Now that Ronan had his pressing questions answered, he was done talking through his grief. He shifted as close to Adam as he could get, and pressed his face into Adam’s shoulder. 

Adam clasped his arms around him. “We’re gonna get up for dinner in a bit, okay?” He said softly. Ronan pressed his head into Adam’s shoulder affirmatively. They didn’t move until Rory knocked on the door.

* * *

Ronan woke with his neck crooked uncomfortably to one side and one foot resting on the floor. As he moved his neck side to side and stretched both legs out, he realized he had fallen asleep on the loveseat in the den. At Sean’s request, they had brought their food into the den to watch a movie during dinner; Ronan hadn’t made it through the movie, apparently.

As he woke up more thoroughly, Ronan realized that everyone else had fallen asleep in the den too. The animals’ beds were all in the den anyway; Chainsaw dozed on her favorite perch, and Shotgun sprawled on her bed. The teacup pigs, Rototiller and Backhoe, rested against Shotgun’s chest. They had accepted her as an improbably large and furry mother.

Tweedledee and Tweedledum were curled up against Rory on the sectional sofa. Chesire perched on the sofa arm next to them, because he needed to maintain his status as the oldest and most aloof cat.

The sofa cushions from the side not occupied by Rory had been dumped on the floor, where they had fused into a seamless mattress because Ronan had dreamt them to do so. Later, a sharp tug would return them to cushion form.

On the mattress, Sean curled into Adam’s chest and Mr. Squiggles stretched to his full length against Sean’s back. On the far side of the mattress, Ronan saw something move under an overturned glass. 

Ronan moved quietly towards the glass. It trapped a scorpion-like creature with cartoonishly large eyes and scissor-like blades at the end of its tail.

“Sean dreamed it,” Rory murmured. Ronan turned towards her. “I think it’s friendly, but we didn’t want it running loose.” She shuffled herself to a seated position on the couch; the cats scattered.

Ronan perched on the arm of the sofa. “Not a nightmare creature?” He asked quietly. Sean’s nightmares tended to be small but murderous.

“Don’t think so. It was just standing next to Sean, clacking its tail scissors at the cats when they tried to investigate.” Rory leaned her head against his arm. She looked down to where Adam and Sean slept, opened her mouth to say something, then shut it. 

“You want to know what happened yesterday,” Ronan guessed.

“Dad said he’d tell me today. I can wait until he wakes up.”

Ronan sort of didn’t want to talk about it. He also sort of felt guilty for leaving Adam with all the responsibility last night. Apparently he argued with himself for a while, because Rory interrupted his thoughts, linking her arm around his. “Dad. You don’t have to talk about it.”

“No, I’ll tell you,” Ronan decided. “Let’s go to the kitchen.”

The weak morning light diffusing over the faded colors of the kitchen somehow made everything feel easier, more normal. So Ronan made coffee while he explained what they’d found in Cabeswater. Rory listened while she made herself a cloyingly sweet mug of chai. “So that’s why you never told me about Noah before,” she said when he’d finished.

Ronan frowned. “How do you know about Noah?”

“Oh.” Rory paused, chewing on her lip. “Um, when you weren’t home before sunset last night, I um. I scryed to try to find you. Noah pushed me out.”

Ronan bit back his dismay, because he could guess the conversation Rory and Adam had had the previous night. Instead, he settled on “I guess you won’t do that again.”

“No,” Rory replied. She kept a laser focus on the counter, not meeting Ronan’s eyes. “It didn’t help any, and Dad was really worried. _You’re_ really worried. I just made everything worse.”

Ronan sighed. He stepped closer to Rory and bumped his shoulder gently against hers until she looked up at him. “It’s over,” he told her. “Everything’s okay, so try to stop thinking about what could have gone wrong, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Rory leaned her head against his shoulder. “Can I meet Noah?”

“You did meet Noah.”

“I mean, can I meet him in the flesh. In my flesh. I know he doesn’t have any.”

Ronan grimaced. “That is some weird ass phrasing. I don’t think Lindenmere’s any more dangerous than usual, if you want to go that badly.”

Rory grinned up at him. “We could go after soccer today?”

“Or you could have some patience --” Ronan stopped when he heard Adam’s voice coming towards them.

“Yeah, he’s up. Just a minute.” Adam appeared in the kitchen doorway, tilting the phone away from his mouth. “It’s Gansey.”

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot promise that this fic will be updated regularly or rapidly, but it will be updated!


End file.
